


Oasis

by loafingdragon, subtleassiduities



Series: Boys will be Embarrassing [4]
Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fuegoleon is very stupid, I somehow managed to make cuddling essential to surviving heat stroke, M/M, Meoroleona is the backbone of this pairing, Overheating, Please Don't Hate Me, Sloppy Makeouts, This is a comedy not a romance, a brief boner, brace for memeing, nozel finds the patience of a saint, romcom, skin on skin contact, somehow this is still funny all the way through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loafingdragon/pseuds/loafingdragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtleassiduities/pseuds/subtleassiduities
Summary: On a mission to recover an artifact that creates an artificial desert, Nozel and Fuegoleon get separated from their magic knight squads and end up in serious danger of overheating. A lot happens in the throws of heat exhaustion that they both are forced to address once it's all over. When the boys can't face the facts, Meoroleona comes to their aid, to their shared embarrassment.
Relationships: Nozel Silva/Fuegoreon Vermillion
Series: Boys will be Embarrassing [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696627
Comments: 26
Kudos: 112





	1. Uprepared

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to In the Lion's Den by loafingdragon, which is also in this series. I highly recommend you give it a read before reading this, as this references that and was heavily inspired by it!
> 
> Wooo time to get a little steamy! This fic was supposed to be 10 pages long and a little silly but instead it turned into 41 pages of things for these two idiots to unpack. It accidentally became my first serious Black Clover fanfiction, and I love it very much.
> 
> You're going to notice that there are a lot of headcanons taken as fact in here but I promise they're good and you'll love them. The two main ones to be aware of are 1) Nozel is a memelord behind closed doors and 2) Fuegoleon has a problem with boundaries.
> 
> This story takes place while Nozel and Fuego are 20 and 22, respectively. They're climbing the ranks of their squads but they aren't captains yet.

Sand and wind roared in Nozel’s ears. The fine grains dashed against his skin as he was thrown off his feet and sent sprawling through the air. He thrashed to and fro, trying to locate the ground long enough to get his mercury pedestal under him. Through the roar of the wind, voices failed to reach him in their entirety: The Silver Eagles and the Crimson Lions all grew more distant in the moments before he was slammed to the ground.

The impact knocked the wind out of him, and it seemed, out of the air around him as well. He laid face-down in the sand as the heat of the sun bore down on him. His Silver Eagle cape felt heavy and hot on his back.

Spitting out a mouthful of sand, he lifted his head. All around him, dunes cut into the clear blue sky. The sun beat down on him from directly overhead, and the air had the temperature and consistency of burnt toast. There were no signs of the two dozen knights and five rogue mages that he’d been fighting with just a moment earlier.

He dropped his forehead back into the sand. This was a McTastrophy. Twenty-four of the Clover Kingdom’s finest magic knights, sent to the far borders of their kingdom to recover an artifact in an artificial desert made on top of an abandoned town, scattered like roaches. Not nearly enough food. Not nearly enough water. No one with proper experience in the spatial magic that had caused this in the first place. This curse was completely out of their control, and Nozel was so disheartened he couldn’t even be properly livid about it. They’d been entirely unprepared.

Something struck his leg, somewhere between a tap and a kick. He bristled and rose to his knees, mercury swirling around him. But he relaxed when he recognized the tall, broad figure standing before him. Even with the man’s head in the sun, casting him in shadow, Nozel could not mistake his rival's silhouette or blazing mana.

“So you are conscious,” Fuegoleon observed. “Are you injured?”

Nozel scoffed. Of course he was, but not so badly that he had to point it out. He shook his head and rose, dusting the copious amount of sand out of his clothes and hair. “Do you have any idea where the others have gone?”

“No.” Fuego looked out at the dunes, his jaw set in consternation. “I cannot sense any powerful mana. We must have been transported quite a ways.”

_No shit, Sherlock._ Drawing in a deep breath that made his ribs ache, Nozel gathered mercury under his feet and lifted himself off the ground. As the platform widened into the shape of an eagle, it picked up Fuegoleon, too. “Then we’ll search. There must be something out here.”

The air grew hotter as they rose into the air. Nozel swabbed his brow with his sleeve and kept his eyes trained on the rolling hills of sand. The expanse of sand seemed endless and unbroken in every direction, and the sun was relentless, aided in its assault by the reflective nature of the mercury swirling at their feet. It was hot. And they’d been here long enough to know that it was unlikely to get cooler. The knights had suspected, before their ambush, that this spatial magic endowed this place with an endless sun.

“Your senses aren’t picking up anything, are they?” Nozel asked, expecting a predictable answer. His mana sensing capabilities were perfectly in-tact, but he could not afford to overlook that Fuegoleon’s were better.

“...No. Nothing.”

How grand. They were out here, in the middle of nowhere, all alone. He could only hope that their squads were faring alright without them. As the endless dunes continued to pass without a hint of familiar magic, he prayed that the others were able to escape and find the edge of this hellhole, so they could come back with reinforcements to find them.

The sun was not getting any lower in the sky, and Nozel was dripping with sweat. He was just about to shift out of his magic knight robe when a shift behind him made him turn. Fuegoleon had dropped his Crimson Lion robe and was pulling his hair back, tying it up and off his neck. His face was red and he looked pensive. Nozel decided that, for the sake of hubris, he would keep his robe on a little longer. “Feeling the heat, Vermillion?” he asked, turning his gaze to the sand again.

“Just a bit,” he murmured.

He tugged his sweat-soaked sleeve away from his wrist. His watch told him that they’d been at this for over two hours. Had the sun acted properly, they would be looking for a place to make camp.

Nozel surveyed the desert, hoping desperately that they would spot anything besides piles and piles of sand. Without so much as a disturbance in the cursed magic of this place to give them a direction, they would make no progress searching for their team today. He could feel that his face was burned to a crisp, and they were both in need of some rest. Under all this sand was buildings. If the spatial magic allowed it, they should be able to dig their way into some place where they could take shelter. “I’m going to land,” he declared. “It seems that we’ll have to dig up shelter if we want to get out of the sun.”

Fuegoleon didn’t reply, but Nozel didn’t wait for him to. They lowered to the ground, and the eagle dispersed as Nozel stepped into the sand. “I assume you’re not too tired to…”

His words petered out when he turned around. As the last of the platform disappeared from under his feet, Fuegoleon took one, two staggering steps, swayed like a sapling in the wind, and collapsed into the sand.

Nozel tensed. For an instant he stood poised, prepared for an attack. But none came; they were alone, and there was nothing to brace for. The realization dawned swiftly that this was not an external threat, and, heart pounding in his chest, he darted forward and rolled Fuegoleon onto his back.

The Vermillion’s face was beet red, and not from burned skin. His breathing was quick and shallow, and his mana rippled from him in sickly, uncontrolled waves. He radiated a fierce heat, and Nozel had to fight past the suffocating energy to get to him. He wiped the sand from Fuego’s eyes and landed a firm pat against his cheek. “Fuegoleon! Wake up!”

Fuego’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, before they closed again. His mana quivered like a cornered animal trying to defend itself, but it receded back to its rippling form as he grew still.

Panic simmered low in Nozel’s gut. This was not good. They had been out here for days, and Fuegoleon had never once mentioned that this oppressive heat was keeping him trapped in his own mana. He wasn’t even sweating anymore; his skin was clammy, but his face and hands were dry. From the looks of his clothes, he hadn’t been sweating for a while.

Nozel hissed a curse driven from his reserved lips by panic. Fuego should have said something. He could understand his reservations about mentioning such a weakness in front of his team, but it had been just the two of them. Nozel could have done something. He would have at least offered him some shade.

But panicking would get him nowhere. He drew a breath that brought him no refreshment, and focused his mana downward. Mercury swirled into the ground, the liquid forming a point that hardened into the head of a drill. It bore downward, throwing sand out of the hole as it burrowed. Nozel kept drilling until the head of the drill struck something solid-- and then swiftly pierced it. From what he could sense, it’d just hit a window. Perfect; they had somewhere to go. If it didn’t fill up with sand first.

The drill swiftly liquified, fortifying the walls of the fragile sand tunnel it had just made. Nozel wrapped his arms around Fuegoleon’s chest and dragged him into the hole. He was as easy to move as a pillar of stone, and easily helped as much as one, too, but once they reached the mercury, it acted as a slide. Once he’d shoved most of the unconscious man down the incline, he pushed off, and they slid into darkness.

Their landing was not graceful. Nozel tried to brace for impact, but Fuegoleon was taller than him, and his feet found the floor before Nozel’s could. Fuego crumpled, and Nozel was forced to release him or end up on top of him. He stumbled several feet before catching himself. Once he was firmly on his feet, he took stock.

First, he righted Fuegoleon. The descent had done nothing to rile him, and he laid, unconscious, face down, ass up. Nozel took him around the chest and pulled him upright, allowing a moment of relief that he had not woken up and been aware of the disrespect done to him. But he didn’t let that feeling last for more than a moment. He ate shit and _didn’t wake up._

He then turned his focus into finding a place to lay him. They appeared to be in some sort of tower. He suspected that it had once been a small estate; the brick architecture and furniture looked like something of the upper-middle class, perhaps the last remnants of a family with old money. One windowsill was wide enough to be a small bed, if Fuego was curled up, and an old dusty bed frame rested against the wall, but had no mattress on it. Still, at least there the feverish Vermillion could sprawl out.

Getting Fuegoleon onto the bed was an ordeal that Nozel was not cut out for. As he struggled to get the unconscious man onto the bed frame without concussing him, he came to the grim realization that this room was hot; barely cooler than the outside air. They were out of the sun, yes, but thrown into almost complete darkness, broken only by the blistering sunlight filtering in through the tunnel of their descent; and that offered no circulation. This place would keep their skin from burning, but that might be it. He would have to think of some other way to cool Fuegoleon down.

By the time he got him onto the bed, he was exhausted enough to join him. He folded to the floor instead, puffing and soaked with sweat. His muscles were starting to cramp with exhaustion in the heat. His mouth felt dry. He groped around his waist until he found his canteen and gave it a shake. It was half-full; enough for barely half a day, and that was in good conditions, for one person.

He uncorked it and dribbled it over Fuegoleon’s forehead. As the liquid dripped down his face, Nozel caught it and rubbed it into his hot skin. Fuego’s mana lapped at it hungrily, sending swirls of steam rising into the dusty air. The fire mage was radiating heat like the sun.

Nozel corked the canteen and set it aside. He curled his fingers into the sash around Fuegoleon’s waist and undid the knot. His cloak didn’t budge as it did; either sticky with wet sweat or stiff from dried sweat. Nozel pulled it open and dragged his arms out of it. Then he collected the belts around his waist: his grimoire, his communication device, a sack for supplies and an empty canteen. He pulled off his boots and socks. He went after his undershirt next, pulling it loose from his pants and trying to pull it over his head.

_No wonder he’s overheating,_ Nozel thought peevishly. _These clothes could withstand a rabid bear._ He fought and struggled to get the shirt up and off, but his angle on the floor did not give him the leverage to get it past Fuego’s shoulders. With a frustrated sigh, he climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist. From there, he could drag Fuego into a sit, and supporting him, he tugged the shirt off his large, muscular arms. Fuegoleon slumped against him, his chin falling against the back of Nozel’s neck. Nozel had to lean back at a horrifically uncomfortable angle to keep him there, lest he flop backward and slam his head on the bed frame. But somehow, he managed it.

Eventually, he dropped the shirt to the ground. Fuegoleon laid against him, shirtless, sticky, and unconscious, as Nozel supported him between the shoulder blades. The heat radiating off of him was suffocating; Nozel was panting like a dog and red in the face, for more reasons than one. Fuegoleon had long since ceased to sweat, but Nozel’s palms were slick, and the Vermillion’s tanned skin slipped against it, making his grip precarious. Supporting his head in the palm of his hand, he lowered Fuegoleon to the bed frame like a newborn baby. When the deed was done, it took everything in him not to collapse on top of him with exhaustion.

Fuegoleon was hot. Physically, in all senses of the word. If Nozel didn’t find a way to cool him off, he would be left with a very attractive corpse. He rolled off the bed, landing on the balls of his feet on the floor. Then, he forced himself to stand. As completely and utterly wrong as it felt to walk away from him, he feared if he didn’t get out of Fuego’s mana, he would not have the energy to think of a way to help him.

He swiped his canteen off the floor, and with the same biting guilt, took a swig. The other side of the room felt cooler by comparison, but beads of sweat were still forming on his brow as he pressed his shoulder to the wall and racked his brain for a way to save his rival. 

All they had was what was on them: a day’s rations, their grimoires, their clothes, their equipment. He knew already that no one would be in range of his communication device; he’d checked it periodically while they were in the sky. Nonetheless, he pulled it out again and held it to his lips. “Can anyone hear me? I am Nozel Silva of the Silver Eagles. I need backup.”

He waited. Nothing.

He shoved it back in his pocket.

The only other thing he could think to try was Elias’ Booth. He had little hope for the tool’s usefulness, but he returned to Fuegoleon’s side with it. He knelt beside the bed, activated it, and set it on the bed post.

A broad cylinder of green healing magic enveloped them. Nozel felt the ache of his ribs ease; bruises heal, scratches close, sunburns peel. He watched Fuegoleon closely. But although redness in his hands faded, he did not wake up.

Nozel let his head drop against the bed frame. He was failing his rival. He was failing his _friend._ If Fuegoleon died here with him, he alone would bear the blame. Never mind that this fool had let himself overheat in the trap of his own mana. Never mind that he’d said nothing when something could be done about it. Nozel had been there with him. Nozel should have saved him.

He buried his hands in his sweat-soaked hair. There had to be something he could do. He could not just sit here while Fuegoleon burned alive in his own mana!

A silver light glowed at his side. Nozel's eyes found his grimoire, strapped into its satchel at his hip. He swiftly released it, and watched as the book, propelled by his own mana, floated to eye level and flew open. Dozens of pages raced by before it rested on a new, blank page. It filled with writing and diagrams, detailing a spell unlike any he’d ever used before. He leaned in, peeling through it fiercely. He wanted to bash his head against a wall as he realized exactly what the spell detailed. So simple. So _obvious._ A spell that he didn’t even need his grimoire open to perform.

He twisted toward Fuegoleon, his eyes still on the book. He couldn’t believe that it could be so simple. Mercury manifested around him, liquid, in long tendrils flowing swiftly through the air. 

_Mercury Magic: Silver Cradle._

The tendrils wrapped around Fuegoleon’s body, forming a grid of mercury that all met up in a swirling vortex outside the aura of Fuego’s magic. The mercury moved in swift rivulets, lapping at the heat of his skin, carrying it away from his body, and dispersing it before starting the cycle again. Nozel held his breath as the minutes ticked by. Bit by bit, the vicious heat radiating off Fuegoleon’s body cooled. His skin lost its feverish flush. His mana receded, tamed by the gentle motions of the cradle, and released its hold on Fuegoleon and the air around him.

Nozel was delirious with impatience. Shouldn’t he be waking up? He extended a hand and pressed his palm to Fuego’s forehead. Under the cooling throngs of mercury, his skin no longer felt clammy. His temperature was nearly normal.

His panic had passed; he had his solution. And now Fuegoleon was being a slug and a coward for remaining unconscious. Nozel snatched up his canteen, wrenched a finger into the unconscious Vermillion’s mouth, and yanked it open. He filled his mouth with water until it threatened to spill. “Wake up!”

Fuegoleon animated with a strangled cough. Water spewed into Nozel’s face as he coughed and gagged. Nozel reeled, and his concentration broken, Silver Cradle collapsed to a puddle of mercury. 

“Disgusting fool!” Nozel spat. Overwhelmed with relief so powerful he could cry, he pressed his sleeve to his face and wicked the mercury away from the bed. “You pass out in the middle of a mission and _this_ is how you wake?”

Fuegoleon continued to hack like a dying cat. The spasms forced him onto his side, and he planted his hands on the edges of the bed frame, gasping in deep breaths between coughs. Eyes swimming, he looked around wildly. “N… Nozel?”

“I should kill you for spitting in my face!” he croaked, running his sleeve over his eyes with an angry flourish. “Have some self respect and stay conscious!”

Fuegoleon stared at him, the gears in his head turning slowly. He licked his lips and spoke carefully, as if he didn’t expect his voice to hold. “Where are we?”

Nozel sucked in a long breath. The air was still sweltering; Silver Cradle did nothing to cool anything or anyone but Fuegoleon. “In a tower underground. I had to burrow us down here, lest you fry in the sand.”

Fuego took a beat to process that before looking down at his glistening, naked torso. Nozel turned away, biting his sleeve in frustration at himself for being so emotional. Of all the things to be dealing with at a time like this, how could he possibly feel _embarrassed?_

“You passed out from heat exhaustion,” he growled. “Had I not brought you down here, you would have died. Why didn’t you take any precautions against your own mana? You were cooking yourself alive.”

Fuego’s hazy expression was gaining clarity. His lips curved into a frown, and then hardened into a somber deadpan. “I thought I took appropriate precautions. But you know as well as I do that we were not prepared for the enormity of this curse.”

All he could do was scoff. That was no excuse, and he thought he should tell him so, but he didn’t trust his voice to stay level enough to get the words out without sounding like a little bitch.

Fuegoleon looked down at his hands, and slowly ran them down his chest, rubbing the droplets of water into his skin. He did the same to his arms, and then his face. “Did you… tame my magic?”

Nozel pressed his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes. “Yes. I did.”

“How?”

“What does it matter?” He groped for his canteen, and relieved to find it shut-- he didn’t remember closing it --he took a swig. Then he shoved it into Fuegoleon’s hands. “Should you overheat again, I think I’d let you. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

“I may have overestimated my abilities,” he admitted slowly. “I guess I owe you my life. Thank you.”

“You’re no good to me dead. But don’t push your luck.”

Fuegoleon took a few slow, long gulps from the canteen, before corking it with unsteady hands and letting it drop to the ground. He rolled onto his back, and his eyes fluttered closed. “So what do we do now?”

Nozel leaned his head against the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had no idea. All he wanted to do at the moment was go to sleep; he was physically exhausted, and his magic was spent. Some time ago, the tunnel that had brought them here had collapsed, cutting off their only breeze. There was nothing to do at the moment. He had nothing left to give. “Rest.”

“And then?”

“We will decide when the time comes.”


	2. There's A Lot of Carrots in That Stew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nozel manages to get Fuegoleon somewhere cooler, and the two of them get a little carried away trying to cool down.

Soon, the time came. Nozel was rocked from a restless sleep by air so hot that it burned rolling down his throat. He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until he was gasping for breath and pushing himself off the bare stone floor.

The air writhed with heat and mana. It was so thick that it pressed forcefully against him, filling the room and wanting more space. Nozel cocked his head to the side; to the bed frame, where Fuegoleon laid. His mana was completely out of control, filling the room like an oven with Fuego laying on the burners.

Nozel extended his hand, rallying his mana to action. He didn’t know how long he'd slept, but it seemed that it hadn’t been long; it was weak and slow to respond, having not recovered in the time that had passed. It formed awkwardly: droplets of mercury manifesting wherever the ripples of fire mana let it, and then when there was enough, it all converged on Fuegoleon like flies to a corpse. The mercury struggled to form its netted pattern on his skin before circulating along its surface.

Nozel feared that he’d pass out before the magic tamed Fuegoleon’s mana. It took far longer than the first time; it had far more to cool. But slowly, the temperature of the room stopped rising as Silver Cradle lulled Fuego’s magic back to calm. Nozel drew all his focus onto the spell, leaning heavily onto his knees before the heat still pressing upon him could flatten him to the floor. The air was so hard to breathe. He could feel his pulse against his skin-- all of it. His magic wanted to rest as badly as he did.

The room wasn’t going to cool much. He had to face this reality when, after an eternity had passed in thirty minutes, Fuegoleon had cooled, but the air didn’t. Nozel dragged himself onto the bed, leaned over the fire mage, and slapped him across the face. Hard. He had no time to be gentle.

Fuegoleon woke like he’d been lightly jostled. In the pitch blackness, Nozel could sense the movement, but could not see it.

“You are the most pathetic creature,” he snarled.

Fuego’s answer came delayed and slurred. “...S’hot in here.”

“Astute as always.” He leered into the darkness around them. They had no light; Nozel wouldn’t even entertain the prospect of using _fire_ to light the room. If he could find his things, he knew he had a torch. But he’d have to find it first. Edging off the bed, and onto his knees, he groped around the floor in search of his satchel.

Fuegoleon’s burning hand brushed against his sleeve. “Nozel?”

“What?” he demanded. “I am trying to find a source of light, and I do not want your help. Lay there and control your mana.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I am not going anywhere. Yet.” His hand closed around a leather strap. He drew it to him, and finding that it was what he was looking for, he searched the bag for the torch. When he found it, all he had to do was activate the light spell-- no heat added. A clear white light illuminated the room. Savoring a tiny victory, he turned back toward Fuegoleon.

He looked bad. Worse than Nozel had ever seen him. Skin red and fevered, eyes hazy and dry, the hand he’d used to pursue him now hanging limply off the bed. He looked deflated, as if his short sleep had deprived him of his strength, and the look on his face was plaintive; almost childlike. Whatever was going on in his head, it wasn’t closely connected to reality anymore. It seemed that his mana had burned away all his brain cells, and was coming after his life force next.

Which meant that he was probably so dehydrated that Nozel was babysitting. He wanted to be furious at the situation that the Crimson Lion had gotten them into, but all he could feel in the moment was worry.

Turning his back to Fuegoleon, he leaned against the bed and looked around. There had to be a way out of here somewhere. This wasn’t a prison. Maybe, if the rest of this building wasn’t full of sand, he could find a source of water, or somewhere cooler to take him. It took him a frustrating amount of searching, but he found it, laid along the floor near the opposite end of the wall: a pull-open trap door. He set his torch aside and gathered Fuegoleon’s clothes, both canteens, and his satchel. Then he started for the trap door.

“Nozel?” Fuegoleon crowed.

He paused, releasing his spell. As his mercury dissipated, he reminded himself that he was on a very, very tight timeline. “I have to find water, Fuegoleon. Lay there and control your mana. Do you understand?”

When he didn’t get a response, he pointed the torch at Fuego. He squinted back at him, his face twisted with thought. Something was trying to work its way through his raisin of a brain, but it didn’t look like it was doing it quickly.

“I will return before you roast yourself alive. Do your best to avoid that while I’m gone.” And he turned, opened the trap door, and slipped down it.

To his surprise, he dropped into a perfectly open hallway. The air down here was cooler, but not by much; still, the heat billowed out of the upper level from the trap door. Nozel left it open. He could sense no mana but his and Fuegoleon’s, and leaving it open lowered the chances of him losing track of it. He started down the longest part of the hall and searched for stairs.

In time, he found them. The estate’s layout was not complicated, and it was almost completely intact; now and then he encountered a window that had burst from the weight of the sand, but a vast majority of the windows and doors held. More than that, most of the doors were unlocked, and he could easily tell which held back a wall of sand and which didn’t. He moved swiftly, so a discovery of an easy layout was a great relief.

The air got cooler as he descended. After coming down two stories, he opened the doors to a small, shut-in courtyard. From the way the ceiling reflected light, he suspected that it was glass. The ground still held some semblance of plant life that had not been dead for that long; perhaps before this town was overtaken by the curse, it had still had some living flora. As it were, he could see clear to the other side of it. And to his great relief and growing hope, at its center sat a large fountain. 

The ten-foot-tall statue in the middle depicted a young woman pouring a basin into the pool. The basin was dry, but the pool was full of water. His white light could tell him nothing about its quality; horrendous, most likely, but both of their canteens were empty, and his options were limited. With a soft “Yolo," he planted his hands on the edge of the pool and dunked his entire face in.

The water was not only barely dingy, but cool. Nozel could have moaned in ecstasy, had he forgotten that his entire face was under water. Instead he gulped down mouthful after mouthful until the obnoxious need for air drove him to surface. He panted, catching his breath, and then dunked his head again. He’d been so worried about Fuegoleon that he’d lost track of just how dehydrated _he_ was.

He drank until he felt like an overfilled water balloon, and then he filled the canteens. Finally, he dunked Fuegoleon’s clothes, soaking them completely without wringing them out. He considered, awkwardly, that it might have been a good idea to take his pants as well, but he couldn’t fathom wrestling him out of his pants translating well to any scenario that might be recounted later. Shirt and tunic would have to do.

Two full canteens on his hips, and a dripping wet set of clothes curled under his arm, Nozel trudged back to the tower. The return journey was exhausting; with the added weight of the canteens and clothes, and the growing heat of the halls as he neared the trap door, he was spent by the time he reached the ladder. He hadn’t bothered to check his watch because trying to maintain a sense of time was pointless, so he assumed he’d been gone just short of the amount of time it would have taken Fuegoleon to roast himself alive. Because when he crawled back into the room, it was heating up again. Panting like a dog, he marched over to Fuegoleon and wrung out his clothes all over his broiling body.

It was hard to tell whether Fuego had fallen back asleep and been startled awake, or just wasn’t prepared for the shower. Either way, he gave a lackadaisical cringe and watched Nozel squeeze the water out of his clothes like the Silva was doing a parlor trick. When that was the extent of his reaction, Nozel curled the clothes into a roll, wrapped them loosely around Fuego’s neck, and sat beside him. Hoping the white light didn’t show off the fresh flush in his cheeks, he rubbed the water against the entirety of Fuegoleon’s perfect chest and stomach. Fuegoleon let his head loll back and let him do it, which didn’t help Nozel feel any less embarrassed about his, but he supposed that if Fuego had been lucid enough to comment about it, he’d be saying “No homo" anyway.

His mana was still threatening to swell and consume him, but for now it was at bay; Nozel hoped that was something that Fuego was consciously doing, and not just some strange natural ebb and flow of his mana in this place. He poured a little water into the palm of his hand, rubbed his hands together, and patted Fuego’s cheeks with it. “I found a source of water, and a bigger room. We should go there before you set this one on fire.”

“M-hm.”

“Fuegoleon, listen to me. I cannot carry you down two flights of stairs. You will have to walk.”

“Mm.”

He sighed, uncorked the canteen, and shoved it in Fuegoleon’s mouth. Nozel braced for him to spit it in his face, but he didn’t; after a meek gag, he guzzled it down as he ought to. Nozel let him drain it of its contents before pulling it back. The fire mage gasped for air as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. Nozel switched canteens and let him drain the second one, too.

Then, he rose. “Now, get up.”

He looked unwilling or unable to do so; Nozel couldn’t tell which. All he got from him was a forlorn stare and parted lips, like he was waiting for his turn to speak and hadn’t realized that it had come.

“I will not beg,” Nozel growled. “Get to your feet and follow me, or you will seal your own fate.”

This time, an effort: he shifted his hands under him and pushed onto his elbows. Nozel decided the effort was sincere. He stepped forward, took him by the elbow, and supported him as he got to his feet. The process was slow and agonizing; his mana buckled and bowed, warming the room in unpredictable bursts. It buffeted Nozel with each billow, forcing him to brace each time and frying his focus. Once Fuegoleon was up, he had all the steadiness of a toddler on a trampoline. Nozel was about to shift to his side when Fuegoleon’s arm closed around his shoulders. He drew him back and caught him in a bear hug from behind.

Nozel’s head was spinning. Not only was this not going to work because _they had to go down a ladder,_ but Fuegoleon’s bare chest was pressed way too comfortably against the back of his shoulders. He could feel the dips and curves of his pectorals. He knew full grown women with less cleavage. His groin was nestled comfortably against Nozel’s tail bone. Had that not been enough to heat him up, his mana was suffocating.

“Idiot,” he grumbled, wrapping his thin hands around Fuego’s forearms. “This isn’t going to work.”

“I’ll make it work,” he retorted, his confidence brazen.

Nozel would have loved to be wrong, for the shear fact that it meant that he didn’t have to worry about Fuegoleon breaking his neck trying to get down the ladder, but that was just not how this was going to pan out. He supposed that they would have to take this one step at a time. So they did: he led the feeble Vermillion to the entrance of the trap door, where, with some effort, he slipped free of his feverish hold, and gestured to the ladder. “Find the sense to do this safely. Climb down the ladder.”

“Ah. Of course.” Fuegoleon sauntered to the trap door like a drunken schoolgirl and eased to his knees. Nozel watched with clenched fists as he shimmied his way down the ladder two rungs at a time. He was nearly at the bottom when his grip abruptly vanished. He fell the last four feet and landed flat on his back.

Nozel grimaced and descended swiftly down the ladder. He landed beside Fuegoleon and stared at him expectantly. The overheating fire mage moved in slow motion, rubbing the back of his head and squeezing his eyes shut. His mana was starting to heat up the air of the hall, and it looked like his wet shirt was drying. Nozel held out his hand, and Fuegoleon took it; shockingly, his balance had not improved from his fall. When the two of them managed to get him to his feet, Fuegoleon caught him by the shoulders and leaned into him again. “Wors’s over,” he slurred, resting his forehead on Nozel’s shoulder.

“I hope so,” Nozel muttered.

They started the slow, exhausting trek to the courtyard. Fuegoleon was hardly able to stay on his feet, and every time he swayed, he threatened to pull Nozel down with him. The unstable fire mage’s heat and weight swiftly drained all of Nozel’s strength. By the time they staggered into the courtyard, he could barely stay on his feet. His hands slick with sweat, he yanked Fuegoleon’s arms off his shoulders and pushed him toward the fountain. “Go.”

He swayed, pushed his bangs off his face, and stumbled forward. Nozel shuffled after him at a snail’s pace, watching from a distance as Fuego knelt beside the fountain and splashed his face. He then did a full somersault into the pool.

And he didn’t resurface.

A wave of panic rocketed Nozel to his full height- when had he doubled over? -and he ran to the pool, torch held out in front of him. He nearly fell into the pool before his thighs collided with the fountain. Blindly, he plunged his hand into the water and groped around until he found Fuegoleon. His fingers curled into his hair and he dragged him out of the water.

Fuegoleon emerged, coughing and sputtering. “Nozel! Let go!”

“Stop acting like a fool!” he snapped, releasing his hair. His heartbeat once again throbbed against his skin, and the air felt hot and sticky going down his throat. “I did not bring you here to drown!”

“Relax,” the Vermillion snarled. He eased into the water, head resting against the edge of the fountain. “I… I’ll be fine.”

Nozel’s knees buckled. He flopped against the fountain’s lip, his chin colliding roughly with the stone, and blinked at the sloshing patches of light bouncing around on the water’s surface. They made his head ache. At some point in the near past, it had gotten harder to breathe. He tried to remember if he’d soaked his own clothes, or if they were this damp from sweat. Blearily, he clutched at his Silver Eagle robe, only to find that he wasn't wearing it. He didn't remember taking it off. He pulled at his belt until it came undone. But once it fell into the dirt, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to commit to taking his shirt off.

Fuegoleon’s unsteady voice cut through his bleary thoughts with the force of a finger through wet paper. “You don’t look good.”

“Charming,” Nozel grumbled. 

“Nozel.”

He couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be a not-so-gentle insistence in his voice. Nozel leered at him from behind his arms, waiting for him to explain himself. Instead, Fuego grabbed him by the shoulder, and in a surprisingly quick motion, dragged him into the water.

Nozel found himself completely submerged. He was so dizzy that he didn’t know which way was up, and the water felt so good that he didn’t care. Only when the pressure began to build behind his eyes, and his chest started to ache, did he flounder until he found the floor of the fountain and push to the surface.

Gasping for air, he found himself staring into Fuegoleon’s face, lit by the dancing light of his torch as it rolled around the floor of the fountain. The air was still thick as pudding, and Fuegoleon’s mana radiated into the water, but it hadn’t yet warmed it to the point of discomfort. The Vermillion stared down at him with half-lidded eyes, his look as hopeful as it was hazy.

Nozel took stock of himself, and realized, with a wave of surprise, that he might have just been saved from a severe case of heat exhaustion. How could he keep forgetting that he was only slightly less prone to the heat while Fuegoleon was wrapped around him? Taking care with his movements, he untangled himself from Fuegoleon’s legs-- where he had apparently been laying under the water --and shifted to sit beside him. When his butt hit the floor of the pool, the water came up to his shoulders. It was deeper than he’d expected.

Fuego sank lower in the water, his lips disappearing under so he could gulp down mouthfuls while he soaked. The concept was simultaneously disgusting and alluring to Nozel; he was already parched again, but their drinking water had now become their bath water. Maybe this wasn’t well thought out.

He turned away and spent an embarrassingly long time fighting with his shirt. Eventually, he pulled it off and slung it over the side of the pool. The effort left him winded and exhausted. Fighting back his growing disgust, he sank low enough that he could also drink. Had he been in any better condition, the saltiness of the water would have been completely revolting. As it were, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Everything faded but the gentle sloshing of the water’s movement. Nozel wanted badly to drift off to slumber; the urge was so very powerful in the water, and he didn’t have the strength to fight it. He pushed himself up just enough that he wouldn’t immediately sink should his body relax, but exposing his full face to the air made him realize that Fuegoleon was rapidly heating up.

Irritation shattered his moment of peace. He glared at his rival, laying beside him with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. _Is he trying to control his mana, or just uncomfortable?_

“Can’t you do any better than that?” 

Fuegoleon’s eyes opened, and he looked so disheartened that Nozel wanted to admonish him for it. This was no way for a magic knight to act. 

“Unbelievable. So I must continue to take care of you, as if you were a child?”

“Once I’ve recovered…”

He growled, lifted his hand from the water, and pressed it to Fuego’s forehead. In the dancing white light of the traveling torch, he couldn’t tell if his face was still badly flushed; was he still too sick to control himself, or was this purely the curse manipulating his magic? He was puzzled when he couldn’t tell. Fuegoleon’s forehead was close enough in temperature to his own hand that it didn’t feel hot, but it didn’t feel _right_ either.

Fuegoleon’s bleary expression curved into a look of concern. “You’re burning up now, Nozel.”

“Am I?” He pulled his hand back. He thought that he must have recovered some, from the simple fact that time had passed. But his breath wasn’t coming easily. And he could still feel his pulse in his skin.

“Can you perform that spell again?” Fuegoleon asked.

Nozel blinked slowly. I took him a moment to fully recollect what spell he was talking about. “Yes.”

“Do it to yourself. We’ll never get out of here if you can’t lead us.”

“We’ll never get out of here if _you_ can’t gain control of your magic.”

The two leered at each other in their most pathetic standoff to date. Fuegoleon’s expression had lost all of its hardness in his delirium, and that made Nozel livid. He was sure that his own face still held all the contempt it should for a moment like this. Under normal circumstances, neither of them would back down, caught in a dramatic stalemate that reminded the other of their magic power. But they both knew that they didn’t have all day to sit here waiting for the other to break.

Fuegoleon’s hand tightened around Nozel’s arm, and he pulled him forward. Nozel collapsed onto him, his balance easily thrown off. His face hit Fuegoleon’s chest, and as he struggled to right himself, his rival grabbed him by the hips and hauled him into his lap. Nozel’s body went hot, enveloped in Fuego's mana and his own bewildered excitement. How was he still so strong in this state!?

Being against him was like laying on a wet heated blanket. Nozel lifted his hand, searching for leverage, but the only place he could find to put it was on Fuegoleon’s ample left pec. He planted his hand against it and then forgot why he’d put it there. “What the hell-”

“Do it now,” Fuegoleon said, his slurred words confident. “You can circulate between both of us.”

Oh. Yes, that might work. No, he decided that it would. His cheek still nestled against Fuego’s chest, he gathered his mana to him, and used every bit of it to cast the spell. Mercury surrounded them, snaking up their limbs, across their faces, between their torsos, finding the easy places where their skin didn’t touch to make a path. The effect was instant: aided by the water, the places where the mercury crossed their skin was chilled. As time went on, the cool spread more evenly between their bodies. Fuegoleon’s mana receded, lulled again to appeasement by the gentle streams of metal.

And to Nozel’s great relief, it cooled the water around them, too. The two began to relax; their muscles softening, their eyes closing. Nozel let his hand rest against Fuego’s chest, the rivulets of mercury weaving between his fingers on their way across it. Fuegoleon’s right arm found the small of Nozel’s back, creating a cool spot between the streams of mercury that had already formed. Their hearts beat between them, too hard and too fast, but slowing and easing. Nozel let the soft rumbling under Fuego’s chest calm his nerves. It was only when he allowed this for too long, and the mercury started to slow, that he remembered that if he fell asleep, the spell would cease. He lifted his head and splashed his face. He couldn’t give in to temptation.

Fuegoleon shifted under him. It seemed that he had been overcome with the same feeling. “This feels familiar,” he muttered, a half-smile in his voice.

“What are you talking about?” Nozel mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Do you remember?” The smile in his voice was growing. “A few years back. My sister left us in the woods.”

That was all he needed to say for Nozel to be rocketed back to that cold winter day. His face heated up at the memory. “We fell through the ice.”

“And we hid underground.” Fuego let out a huff that might have been a laugh if he’d had the energy. “Then it was _me_ saving _you.”_

Nozel let out a grunt of acknowledgement. Of all the things to reminisce about while he was lying half-naked against him, he should have expected Fuegoleon to bring up that. The memory was acutely embarrassing to him, and did remind him of this, but in the overheated haze of his mind, he couldn’t pull out the details. If he tried too hard, he’d be lulled to sleep. So he swallowed his pride and indulged. “What do you remember of that?”

“My magic… much more useful in the cold.”

“Mh. Perhaps.”

“You fought me on the ice. That’s why it broke.”

“Your mana broke it,” Nozel contended, his fingers curling against Fuego’s warm chest.

“And you jumped in after me.” He let out another ghost of a laugh. “But I pulled us to safety.”

Nozel couldn’t remember if that was true or not. Perhaps it was too close to the point where this story started to get embarrassing.

“And I hid us underground. You didn’t care for that.”

“Ah.” The memories were starting to surface.

“You couldn’t speak. Too cold.” His voice was getting airier as he reclined into the memory. “Do you remember?”

“Yes,” Nozel admitted.

Fuego’s hand curled into a soft fist against his back. He rolled his knuckles along his spine, finding the dips where they fit with ease. “I had to warm you. With my hands and lips.”

“You _kissed me_ and _groped me.”_

“I said no homo.”

“Yeah. You did.” Nozel pressed his forehead to Fuego’s neck. He smelled of dirt and sweat. Nozel hated that he liked the smell. It only threw him further back into his quickly strengthening memory. “It was all for my own good is what you believed.”

“Of course.” He paused, growing quiet while the slow sway of his knuckles against Nozel’s spine came to a lazy stop. His palm opened, enveloping the small of his back again. “Do you think it would help to do that now? My head still feels… very hot. I can’t think straight.”

Nozel was absolutely sure that he’d heard him wrong. He lifted his head, eyes narrowed at his rival’s face, only to discover that he absolutely had heard every word of that correctly. Fuego returned his gaze with a fond smile. His face was rosy, and his eyes were half-lidded and hazy. Nozel knew that in this state, he couldn’t be dishonest if he tried.

Still, he peeled over the request for a second meaning. Because even his half-cooked brain could not easily accept that _Fuegoleon was asking him to kiss and grope him._ Maybe they were both still overheating. Maybe his magic wasn’t working as well as he’d thought it was. But if that was the case, then more mercury over their faces would be beneficial….

He found himself leaning in before he’d consciously made a decision. Fuegoleon met him, and their lips came together softly, clumsily. They parted after only a moment, breathing softly, eyes swimming.

“You didn’t move your mercury,” Fuegoleon breathed.

“I’m working on it,” Nozel murmured.

He lifted his hand from the water, found Fuego’s cheek, and pulled him in. This time they planted soundly, lips melting together and locking in perfect synch. Nozel’s head spun as Fuego deepened the kiss. Nozel softened against him, his lips parting wider as he lifted himself up. The burning in his face- he couldn’t tell if it was from him or from Fuego’s mana -abruptly reminded him of what this was for, and he wretched his attention away from the union of their lips to focus on redirecting mercury. It crept from his fingers and along Fuego's face, finding purchase in the grooves of his cheeks and brow. Once it had its direction, he let it naturally spiderweb, and dove back at Fuegoleon’s mouth hungrily.

They only parted when it was clear that they were both entirely out of breath. As Nozel pulled back, the tendrils of mercury broke between them like a snapped rubber band. Droplets of metal floated in the air before picking a direction, and the interlocking grid of mercury reformed on their faces, thinner and slower than before. Nozel and Fuego stared at each other, open mouth panting. Nozel couldn't pin down his thoughts, and the range of temperature in his face was easily as disorienting as what was going on inside his head. Through his scrambled thoughts, he managed to form one that was fairly coherent. “Did that help?”

The question seemed to catch Fuegoleon completely off guard. Nozel waited, forgetting entirely to breathe, as the redhead’s expression rested stubbornly on indecision, before finally shifting to something like bashful determination. He shrugged with his brows in a look that meant “sort of” and pulled Nozel in for another kiss, deep and wanting.

Nozel sucked in a soft breath. _This kills the man._ He didn’t know if it was delirium skewing his perception, or the simple fact that Fuegoleon was a very good kisser. The hand on Fuego’s chest slid to his neck, and the mercury excitedly shifted to accommodate it. It was moving faster now, Nozel noted with disinterest, as he sucked on Fuego’s lower lip. This was definitely helping him wake up.

And Fuegoleon was growing more energetic by the moment. Breathing in ragged breaths, his tongue pressed past Nozel’s lips, brushing his tongue before drawing back. Nozel had no choice but to chase him, and as he did he dragged himself closer, closing any space between their bodies as he tackled Fuego’s mouth again. This was not delirium. This was good kissing. 

Nozel was only vaguely aware of what Fuego’s hands were doing under the water, but in the moments that he came up for air, he could track them vaguely; one sliding down his back until it gripped his ass, and the other on his thigh, unmoving until Nozel crushed Fuego to the pool wall and it traveled to his inner thigh. Nozel curled on reflex, a shudder rocking up his spine, and then startled when he realized that his groin was pressed against Fuego’s, and the former really was far more excited than he was.

_OwO What's this?_

He broke away messily. Fuegoleon chased him nearly until their heads knocked. He put a hand on his shoulder to assure that this didn’t happen. Fuego stopped, not very quickly, the weight of his chest against Nozel’s hand. Nozel blinked at the water, struggling to regain control of his senses. His mana was getting a little wily; he hadn’t been paying attention to it. He needed to catch his breath. His body was hot and cold in strange intervals, and the presence of Fuego’s hands wasn’t helping. 

Still, something in the back of his mind reminded him that there was _no reason_ he couldn’t take this as far as they wanted. They were trapped underground, deeply lost, and potentially would never get home. What was the harm in…?

No. He was too lucid to give in to that temptation now. Maybe if things had happened on a slightly differently, but…

“Are you… cooled?” he asked feebly. His gaze shifted to Fuegoleon, but he couldn’t look at him head-on.

The look on his face told Nozel no, but he let him answer on his own. “...I feel better.”

“Can you control your mana?”

Slowly, Fuego leaned against the pool. He closed his eyes, and his mana shifted, drawing inward. But Nozel could still feel that should Silver Cradle cease its effect, Fuego’s mana would flare again. He still didn’t have control over it, which meant that he wasn’t at his best. Which meant he wasn’t lucid. Which meant too much attention to the situation in his pants could prove disastrous for both of them.

It really was an act of sacrifice to convince himself that that was the case.

Nozel scooted back in Fuego’s lap, planted his forehead on his shoulder, and draped his arms around his neck. He couldn’t move off of him, lest he break his spell. So he’d just have to pretend that he didn’t know about the temptation between his legs. _F._

“Are you alright?” Fuego slurred. His hands relocated, the one on his inner thigh landing softly on Nozel’s head. As if he was a child. “No homo.”

Unbelievable. Here they were, with every physical sign that they were ready to bone each other, and Fuegoleon couldn’t for a moment believe that there was anything gay about this. Nozel had grown too tired for anger long ago. “You know,” he drawled, all the energy drained from his voice, “I have kissed you more than I have kissed any other person.”

He let out an amused huff. “Really?”

“Yes. Had I not known better, I’d say you liked kissing me.”

“Well. We’ve had many important reasons to lock lips in the past.”

“Sure, Jan.” 

"What? Who is Jan?"

He rolled his eyes before he let them flutter closed. This ridiculous exchange was sapping the last of his energy, and with Fuegoleon already having set fire to his dignity, he decided he had nothing left to lose. "Do you like kissing me?”

Fuegoleon grew quiet. Nozel focused on the circulation of his mercury while the fire mage leaned back, fingers combing through Nozel’s hair. “That’s a complicated question, don’t you think?”

“Not particularly.”

“It’s just that we’ve been in so many unique situations…”

Nozel let the blathering that followed pass by him without notice, his mood plummetting into he nether. It had been foolish for him to entertain all of this for even a second. He’d let the heat get the best of him. That’s all this was, and that’s all it ever was. He could only be angry at himself for believing that Fuego had any insight into how his actions looked from the outside - “no homo” notwithstanding.

And that was the last thought he had before his mana dried up, and he gave in to exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was as fun to read as it was to write! Did you get all Nozel's meme references? Hopefully they didn't kill you at point blank range.


	3. Cool Story, Bro, Tell it Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuegoleon wakes up to find that Meoroleona has come to see him! She's not impressed with Fuegoleon's memory of his ordeal, so she forces him and Nozel to have a chat. It doesn't go how Fuego expects, but to be fair, it doesn't go how Nozel expects either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meoroleona was trained by Acier Silva, the Meme Queen Supreme, so while she is not a memester herself, she is meme literate. This is important for about 20 seconds.
> 
> Fair Warning: Fuegoleon is very stupid.

_“Are they alive?”_

_“The artifact must be close at this point.”_

_“We’ve got an escape plan mapped, we just have to follow it.”_

_“If he couldn’t control his mana, there’s no knowing how much is in his system.”_

_“But how long before he wakes up?”_

_“He’s going to be fine, you’ll see!”_

Fuegoleon’s eyes peeled open. His eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, and the rest of his body, more. The afternoon sunlight coming in from a nearby window was blinding; he closed his eyes at once and struggled to make his head cooperate with his wish to turn away. 

“You’re awake!”

The voice echoed off the walls and bounced back a little too loudly to be comfortable. But it was familiar, and welcoming. A sign that he was somewhere safe, and with friends.

Leopold crawled across the bed and grinned down at him, his big turquois eyes shining. “Hey, big bro!”

Fueogleon was quickly swarmed by Crimson Lions on all sides. They bombarded him with questions and comments, talking over each other and at increasing volume. All the while Leopold sat by his shoulder and chattered excitedly. Fuegoleon’s head spun. He squeezed his eyes closed, cleared his throat, and struggled to find his voice.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

The room bridled and went silent. Fuego’s eyes popped open. While the words were exactly what he wanted to say, they didn’t come from him. The crowd of red robes parted to let through Meoroleona. She marched to his bedside, planted her hands on its edge, and flashed him a toothy grin. “Hey, bro! About fucking time!”

“Sister,” he rasped, a warm feeling of relief swirling in his chest. She hadn’t been here when he’d left for this mission. Had she come to see him?

“In the flesh." She straightened and swung her arm toward the room. “Go on! Get!”

The swing held the very real threat of clotheslining some of the closer Crimson Lions, who ducked out of the way and fled. The room quickly emptied out, nervous chattering and apologies following them through the door. Leopold smiled cheekily, smug for not being included in the evacuation.

Meoro plopped onto the side of the bed, sending Leo bouncing in his place and jostling Fuego uncomfortably. “And close the door behind you!” she hollered. When it had been pulled shut, she turned back to Fuego. “So. What the hell happened?”

Fuego blinked slowly, relishing the silence to reorganize his thoughts. His memory was foggy, obscured by the heavy feeling of suffocating heat. It came back in bits and pieces: flashes of scenes, strange tastes, a notable smell. As the pieces fell into place, he cleared his throat again. It was sticky and wet, like he was waking from a nap that had lasted too long. “The artifact manipulated my mana. I was trapped in it.”

Meoro snorted. “Seriously? So you were cooking yourself. Smooth.”

“Smooth!” Leo echoed, turning the insult into a compliment.

“I was in and out of consciousness,” Fuego continued, abashed. “Nozel…” He paused. “How is Nozel?”

“Eh? He’s fine.” Meoro scratched her cheek and narrowed her eyes. “Well, as fine as you are. He’s in his own room. He woke up earlier today.”

Another wave of relief washed over him. Fuego didn’t know what he’d do if he found out that his rival hadn’t made it out of this mess.

“You’re okay, right?” Leo asked, as if the question was unnecessary anyway. He flashed his brother a knowing smile.

Fuego forced a smile in return. “Of course, Leo. Do you think _I_ could ever not be?”

His smile broke into a grin, and he let out a triumphant giggle. Fuego relished that the four-year-old could be so easily convinced. It was far better than him being terrified for him. He hoped that Leo never had been.

“There, you happy?” Meoro said, patting Leo a little too hard on the head. “Hey, now I got something for you. Check these out!” She pulled two tiny knobs from a bag at her waist, and before Leo could get a good look at them, she shoved them in his ears. The toddler let out a squeak of surprise, only for his face to light up. He eased into a rhythmic bounce, and Meoro lifted him onto her shoulders, where he happily clung like a monkey.

Fuego cocked a brow. “Earbuds?”

“Airpods,” Meoro corrected, casting him a sly smirk. “Kid’ll be missing in action until I pull them out.” Her smile vanished, face abruptly growing serious. “So how bad was it?”

Fuegoleon looked away. He hardly wanted to admit to his sister how close he was to death. Or at least, how close he _assumed_ he was to death. The broad spans of unaccounted time, broken up by a series of sickly memories, didn’t leave him confident that he’d been faring well. And he had no memory of being rescued from their resting place in the fountain. She would be so ashamed of him if she knew just how bad it’d gotten.

“You ate shit, huh?” she accused, sneering. “When they found you two, you were both half dead. Don’t try to sugarcoat it.”

“We were unprepared,” he said gravely. “My magic was ill-equipped for the job.”

“That’s a pathetic excuse,” she growled. “Once you’re out of this bed, you’re training with me. No brother of mine is going to be done in by some desert curse.”

He lowered his eyes, letting his shame drive his chin to his chest.

“So, how come you aren’t dead? What did you two do down there?” she demanded. “They said they found you in some pool?”

“Nozel had… a spell,” Fuego said slowly. “Every time I was close to death, he brought me back.”

“What spell was that?” 

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “It was nothing like anything I’ve seen him use before. But he saved my life with it, I know that.”

Meoro grunted. “You pussy. You shouldn’t have given him the satisfaction.”

“I know.” He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. “His mercury cooled our skin. Did you know that it could do that?”

“I know it can give you brain damage. They were pretty worried about that.”

Fuego chuckled darkly. “No. We weren’t fighting. It was only on our skin.”

Meoroleona didn’t look convinced, but evidently, she had other questions. “What happened down there? Do you even remember?”

Now that his mind was waking up, he remembered quite a bit: the tower, the estate, the pool. Nozel passing out after using every bit of his magic to keep them cool. Everything that had happened between getting in the pool and Nozel passing out in it-- at least, he thought it was everything. After that, things went black. He couldn’t derive a single explanation for _why_ those things happened, but he was sure they had. “My mana was unstable due to the curse,” he began. “I must have passed out… I awoke underground, in the dark. Nozel used his spell to cool me before disappearing. He came back with water, and once we’d drunk what he brought, we found the pool. By then, my mana had done a number on him as well.”

Meoro snorted. “Gods, you’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I nearly killed him. He could have left me there and found his own way out. But by the time we got to the pool, I think he was too sick to. We got in the pool to cool off… Our clothes were a hindrance at that point. He only had enough mana to use the spell once, but it could affect both of us with skin-to-skin contact. So we got as close as we could. His spell also tamed my mana, somehow. But he was so low on magic power, its effect was limited. We had to be very close to get the most out of it. I remember kissing as useful, but he ran completely out of magic power, and then I… Why are you looking at me that way?”

Meoreleona looked so exasperated that Fuegoleon suddenly feared that she’d get up and leave. She adjusted Leopold like he was an off-kilter hat and planted her hands on the bed, leaning forward. “You two were making out in that pool?”

“I wouldn’t say _that_.” Wait, were they?

“What do you call it, Fuego?”

“It was self-preservation! There was nothing more to it.”

Meoroleona drew herself up slowly and ran her hand down her face. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“What? Why?” he balked. “We did it to stay alive! You wouldn’t do the same?”

“I wouldn’t get myself in this clusterfuck in the first place!” she snapped, bringing the side of her hand down hard on his head. “Did Nozel say anything about whatever horseshit you two were doing down there?”

Fuego cringed and deflated. He rubbed his head, fighting back a headache that radiated from the blow. “I don’t recall his exact words… I think he made some comment about it.”

“Think,” she commanded. “What did he say?”

Fearing another hit, he did his best to think back. Water, kissing, talking… What did they say to each other? It was all a hazy blur before Nozel passed out. It was about kissing. Was there a question? What did he say?

Meoro bared her teeth at him, and Fuego braced for another strike. But instead of hitting him, she grabbed his comforter and dragged it off his body. “Get up.”

Fuego scrambled to do as he was told, only to find that most of his body was still heavy as lead. “I am. I will.”

Meoro stood and watched him struggle to gain control of his limbs. Slowly, and with great effort, he pulled himself to the edge of the bed and eased onto his feet. Meoro gave him a once over before apparently deciding that he was sound enough, and motioned him to follow.

The walk from the west wing of the palace to the east wing had never seemed so long. All of Fuegoleon’s energy went into keeping up with his sister. Her pace was its usual swift swagger, and she did not slow down or wait for him. It was up to him to keep up, lest he lose sight of her and be left on his own. When she finally stopped in front of a familiar Silva door, he was entirely out of breath. She waited only a beat before opening the door and poking her head inside. Fuego forced himself to straighten and follow her.

Nozel laid in his bed, the blanket pulled up to his chest. On his left, Solid was curled into the crook of his arm. Nebra sat the other side of the bed, her head resting on its edge. At the foot of the bed, Noelle laid, face down, drooling onto the comforter. They all seemed sound asleep, but as the Vermillions walked in, Nozel’s eyes opened and he regarded them with tired apathy.

“Hey, metal head,” Meoroleona greeted, her volume unadjusted for the three sleeping children. “Good to see you awake. This twat just woke up himself.” She jabbed a thumb at her brother, who stood a pace behind her, still unsure of what she meant by all this. “His dumb ass carmalized half his brain, so why don’t you two see if you can fill in the gaps?”

Nozel’s eyes narrowed at her ruefully. Everyone in the room knew that he would not protest. Meoroleona had easily earned his respect-- or fear, depending on the occasion --and she would get what she wanted from this.

Her mana warped and solidified into three large lion’s paws. One by one she scooped up the Silva children: Noelle around the middle, Solid by his pants, and Nebra by the top of the head. The kids awoke violently as they were hauled off their brother’s bed and carried through the room. 

“Fuck! We are under attack!” Nebra screamed, clawing at the comforter. She dragged half of it off the bed before she lost her grip, and was left flailing for an anchor.

“Begone, thot!” Solid hollered, shooting a spout of water toward Meoroleona. The momentum of the attack sent him spinning, his pants bunching up and then twirling him the opposite direction like a broken helicopter. 

Meoro cackled as the water crashed against her mana and burst into steam. “Do not quote the deep magic to me, witch. I was there when it was written!” She turned, dragging the struggling duo out of the room. Leo, still bouncing along to the music being pumped into his ears, laughed along, his lack of context doing nothing to hinder his enjoyment of his sister's siege.

Noelle, too sleepy to fight and completely unwilling, disappeared out of the room in peace. Her tiny voice barely reached back into the room as Meoroleona carried them down the hall. “I can't believe you've done this."

Nozel and Fuegoleon stared out the door until the sound of their protests faded into obscurity. When they could delay interaction no longer, Fuego turned toward Nozel and scratched his head. “I’m glad that you’re alright.”

“No thanks to you,” he muttered.

Fuego narrowed his eyes at him. “I deserve that. I am… sorry. I’ve learned a great deal from this.”

“Have you.”

There was a biting edge in Nozel’s voice; more than Fuegoleon would expect, even under these circumstances. He’d expect some gloating. He’d expect admonishment. But this was something else. This was bitter. This was baleful.

Fuegoleon’s legs ached. He would have loved to sit in the chair pulled up to Nozel’s bed, but it wasn’t hard to tell that the last thing the Silva wanted was for him to come closer. So he stood, shifting his weight between his fatigued feet, and tried to think of something to say.

“Why are you here, Fuegoleon?”

“You saw how I came,” he replied, eyes askance. “Meoroleona thought it pertinent for me to fill in the gaps in my memory.”

“Why?” He asked flatly.

“Far be it from me to understand the inner machinations of my sister’s mind,” he said, giving a halfhearted shrug. “But… I can see the merit in it. Had anything happened that I should apologize for, but has escaped my memory, I should know.”

Nozel’s dull purple eyes trailed away from Fuegoleon. Somehow, that made him fidget more. “I know all I need to. I don’t need another apology from you, and I don’t need your company. Begone.”

The knot of anxiety twisting in Fuegoleon’s gut burst into a hot ball of anger. “Listen here, Silva,” he snarled, stomping toward the bed. “If I’ve done something unforgivable, I will not stand for you to keep it to yourself. The least you can do is confront me about it!” He planted his hands on the bed and leaned forward, his mana flaring haughtily. “So tell me! What did I do?”

Nozel pressed himself to his pillow and turned away. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, his tone unaffected. “Nothing you don’t already do.”

Fuegoleon stared at him, his anger suffocated with confusion.

“Just go, Fuegoleon,” he drawled. “You’ve made your point. Leave me be.”

“Nozel,” he pressed. “What have I done?-- continue to do?”

“I will not spoonfeed to you every offense you’ve ever committed,” he said. “Take what you’ve learned and shove it up your-”

“For goodness sake!” he gawked. “What’s gotten into you? Are you still sick?” He reached for Nozel’s forehead.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, swatting his hand away. His mana flared in reaction-- bristling, like Fuegoleon was something to defend him from. “How many times must I tell you to leave me alone?”

Fuegoleon recoiled. He’d never seen Nozel this way before. Volatile, yes. Angry, of course. But the playing field had been even in the past. He’d always been _trying_ to get a rise out of him. This was something else entirely. It felt like he’d cornered his friend and he didn’t know how to free him.

“Alright.” With some effort, he pushed back onto his feet. “If that’s what you want, I’ll let you be.” Forcing his fatigued muscles to work, he trudged across the room. His hand was on the door knob when Nozel spoke up.

“Do you really not remember what happened?”

He paused. In Nozel’s current state, Fuego wondered if he was being baited. “...I remember most of it,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “You saving me, again and again.”

“Do you remember how I did that?”

“Yes. You had a spell.”

“And do you remember what happened when we were in the fountain?”

“Yes. For the most part.”

Nozel’s face twisted with frustration. He pushed himself up to a sit and ran his hand down his reddening face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His voice didn’t sound as confident as he wanted it to. He turned to face the bed. “We sat together to make the best use of your spell. It worked better with more skin-to-skin contact, so…”

This didn’t seem to be what Nozel wanted to hear. The suspicion that he had forgotten some very severe details dawned on Fuegoleon again. What had he done when he was blacking out that was unforgivable?

“Do you remember why we kissed?” Nozel asked, the words tripping over each other like he’d suddenly lost control of his tongue.

“It was… for the spell, wasn’t it? To cool down.”

“Do you remember the conversation we had after?”

Fuego frowned. Meoro had asked him that, too. Was it that conversation that had caused both of their exasperation?

“I asked you, in so many words, why you’ve managed to find so many reasons to kiss me,” Nozel mumbled.

That definitely didn’t sound familiar. Now he was on his toes; however this conversation had gone the first time, he didn’t want to repeat his mistakes. Still, what was he going to do? Lie? “I haven’t looked for situations where close proximity is a factor to our wellbeing,” he said slowly, “but several have sprung up.”

Nozel’s deprecating gaze didn’t budge an inch, aimed at him through the Silva’s pale fingers. “And those were, in your mind, absolutely necessary.”

“I don’t see what you’re getting at,” he answered earnestly. “It’s always happened under practical circumstances. No homo intended.”

Nozel’s eyes did a complete summersault in his head, and he sank against his pillow. Fuegoleon could not believe how scathing such an action could be. “I’ve had enough. Go.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand curled into a determined fist. “You’re sick of the situations we get ourselves in? I’ve only ever done what I thought was right! There is no shame in a warrior’s kiss!”

“Of course not.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Get out, Fuegoleon.”

“I will not be ashamed of my actions, and I will not allow you to be either!” He marched back to the bed and grabbed Nozel by the collar. “That is what this is about, is it not? You’ve decided that it’s _my_ fault that you’ve been pushed so far out of your comfort zone!”

Nozel’s hand fell away from his face and wrapped around Fuego’s wrist. “Fuegoleon-”

“The great warriors of the past kissed as a show of camaraderie! I will not be ashamed!” He dragged Nozel to him, planting a firm, deep kiss on his dry lips. Nozel tensed, his free hand finding Fuego’s shoulder, but there his protest ended. 

Fuegoleon pulled away abruptly, his eyes burning with a challenge. “Will you!?”

Nozel stared up at him, eyes wide, cheeks red. Something about the curve of his eyebrows, the shape of his lips, the look in his purple irises struck Fuegoleon as very familiar; something lost to his time in the fountain.

“No,” Nozel squawked.

“Good!” He released him and stood upright. The action was becoming harder with each passing second, and he didn’t right himself without an imbalanced sway. He very much needed to sit down.

Nozel turned away, eyes still bugging, and pressed his curled fingers to his mouth. “Fuego.”

“What?” he huffed.

“Do you _like_ kissing me?”

The question left him, mentally, on his ass. How was he supposed to see it coming? His brow smoothed, and his eyes drifted away as he faced the question head-on. Did he? It was always out of necessity that they’d kissed-- except for now, this was not necessity --but did he… enjoy it? Was it fun? Was Nozel a good kisser?

He couldn’t tell if his mana was flaring with his growing unease, or if only his face burned. He watched Nozel’s gaze tick back to him, peering at him sideways from under his delicate lashes. 

_Oh._

“What-- What does it matter if I do?” he finally demanded, planting his hands firmly on his hips. “What difference does it make? I have nothing to be ashamed of! This is clearly a problem you’ve created.”

Nozel’s damning stare burned into his soul.

Fuegoleon cleared his throat and turned away. He hoped his stumble wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “I must go.”

He fled the room.

Meoroleona, never one to control the volume of her voice, was easy to track. He ran until he found her with the kids, pummeling them mercilessly into a mountain of pillows. As he ran into the room, she turned toward him. “Hey, idiot, did you-”

He collided head-on with her, and fell flat on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're not sick of Meoroleona yet, because she's the only reason that this story is 5 parts instead of 3.
> 
> Actually, the reason this story didn't end here is solely because of loafingdragon, who coached me through the rest of this fic. Shower her with love. I promise eventually she'll post her own writing.


	4. Not... Unpleasant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meoroleona figures out where Fuegoleon's head is after his chat with Nozel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part and the next are short, and really meant to be read back-to-back. Fair warning that this is may not have the cathartic ending you desire. It's really more of a comedy than a romance.

Fuegoleon gazed forlornly at the ceiling of his bedroom. Beside him, Meoroleona sat, picking her nails. He knew that she was waiting for him to either start talking or kick her out. But he was having a hard time deciding which was the prudent option.

Fuegoleon had always prided himself on his wits, but with his conversation with Nozel playing through his mind, he felt very stupid. What exactly was he missing here? He knew he was right; there was nothing to be ashamed of. He’d always done what he’d done for the greater good. The ends justified the means. And he knew Nozel to believe the same thing. So why had this bothered his rival so much? What was Fuego missing to make the pieces fall into order?

“Sis,” he said, his eyes still trained on the ceiling, “did you talk to Nozel before I woke up?”

“Nah,” she said. “I mean, I checked on him, but he didn’t have much to say. He wanted to be left alone.”

“Mh. So why did you want me to talk to him? Did you know he was angry with me?”

Meoro shook out her hands and leaned back on them. “Had a hunch,” she said, casting him a mirthless smile. “Especially after you told me what you remembered. Did he fill in the blanks?”

“He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know,” Fuego replied drearily. “He just asked… questions.”

Meoro leaned her head back, her expectant sneer persisting. “Yeah?”

“Yes. He is very preoccupied with the actions we took in the fountain.”

“Wow, who woulda thought.”

He frowned at her, but if he was supposed to make anything specific from the comment, it didn’t show in her face.

“What’d he ask?” she pressed.

Fuego’s eyes returned to the ceiling. He tried to find a way to pick words that didn’t feel like something his sister would turn on him, but he couldn’t think of a way that she wouldn’t no matter how he phrased it. “He asked me if I liked kissing him.”

“Hoo-hoo. Do you?”

“What does it matter?”

Meoroleona snorted hard and cackled. For the second time that day, Fuegoleon felt his face burn, and not because of his mana. 

“Is that what you told him?” she laughed.

“Yes! What is wrong with that answer? What _does_ it matter?” he demanded.

“You’re so stupid, it’s going to put me in the ground,” his sister wheezed, wiping her eyes with the base of her hand. “Come on, Fuego. What do you think it matters?”

His lips formed a hard line. If he was being honest with himself, it meant something to him, but he didn’t know what. But if Nozel hadn’t made such a fuss about it, he would have been perfectly happy never diving down this path of introspection.

“If I had to be honest, I think he likes kissing me,” he finally stated. “But I’ve made it very clear that there are no romantic intentions behind these incidents.”

His words were drowned out by Meoro’s laughter. Fuego’s face burned with embarrassment as he watched his sister laugh herself to tears. When she finally managed to speak, the words came in gasps. “No homo, right?”

“Exactly.” The word tripped from his lips feebly. He couldn’t put the confidence behind it that he wanted.

“Maybe you forgot to say it at the fountain!” Meoro chortled.

Fuegoleon’s heart slammed against his chest. He couldn’t actually remember making his intentions clear at the time. But Nozel had to know. Why in the world would they kiss for any other reason at a time like that?

“But he knows!” he cried. His voice sounded childish and defensive to his own ears. “We know each other well enough that he wouldn’t misconstrue something like that!”

Still laughing like a hyena, Meora pulled herself completely onto the bed, laid on her back, and crossed her ankles on his pillows. “Sure, bro. But let’s pretend, for just a second, that he _didn’t_ know for sure. What would you do then?”

Fuego shrank under his covers, face beat red. He thought, earnestly, that it wouldn’t be so bad to die on the spot.

“You want my advice?” Meoro finally asked.

He wasn’t sure he did.

“Maybe cool it with the life saving kisses for a while. Think of it as mental training. Every time you think you’ve got to-- to kiss for self preservation--” She couldn’t get through the phrase without quaking with laughter “--give it another minute of thought.”

He was too embarrassed to protest. “Alright.”

Meoro flashed him an OK sign in a gesture that was supposed to be supportive. But Fuego didn’t get much comfort from it as she continued to laugh.

“You know, you never answered the question,” she chuckled. “ _Do_ you like kissing him?”

Fuego pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes too hard. “It’s not… unpleasant.”

To Fuegoleon’s great surprise and relief, his sister didn’t make a comment on his answer. The two laid there while Meoroleona wound down from her fit of laughter. When she’d quieted to giggles, she sat up and patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll get your shit together eventually, little bro. Now get some rest. Training starts first thing tomorrow.”

Fuegoleon said nothing as she got up and walked out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in case it wasn't glaringly obvious before, you should now be able to tell that this isn't Meoroleona's first rodeo with Fuego and Nozel's bizarre relationship. She's a pro at this, and she enjoys her role in it very much.


	5. The Ball's in Your Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After talking with Fuegoleon, Meoroleona pays Nozel a visit. He does not appreciate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part! And your last reminder that this is a comedy! Nobody's having a good time but Meoro, but she's having a REALLY good time!

Nozel stared at the insides of his eyelids as his poor mood threatened to reach a head. He was exhausted, but could not sleep; restless, but could not move. Meoroleona had taken his siblings away and now he was bored. He wished he had a way to get back at the Uncrowned Undefeated Lioness for treating him like a child, but many failed attempts had taught him that he was better off letting her do as she pleased. Coming out of nowhere to cause problems and then fading seamlessly into the shadows had always been Meoroleona’s MO. He knew no one else who got away with it so easily.

His door opened, and the object of his frustrations sauntered into the room. She wore a cocky smirk that told Nozel at once that she was here to cause more problems. “Hey, metal head. How’d the chat go?”

“Why did you bring him here?” Nozel demanded. “I had no desire to see him-- or you, for that matter.”

She shrugged. “Sounded like fun. You didn’t have fun?”

He cast her a look that would have made anyone else crumble. It only made Meoro laugh.

“Actually, I needed to know what the two of you were thinking. You weren’t talking, but Fuego did, once he figured it out.” She strolled across the room and sat her big obnoxious butt at the end of his bed. “So, I’ll give you the rundown.”

“You’re acting as an informant?” Nozel asked, cocking a brow.

“Pull that stick out your ass. I’m embarrassing my brother.”

Nozel rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. This wasn’t new. His and Fuegoleon’s relationship had been a source of entertainment for Meoroleona since they were kids. She could sniff out Fuegoleon’s immunity to shame from miles away, and never missed a chance to experience every bit of it she could.

“He’s having a meltdown trying to figure out if he said ‘no homo’. I made sure of it.”

“You’re insidious.”

“He doesn’t remember,” she laughed. “Did he?”

Nozel sighed, long and slow, and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, he did.” 

She chortled into the air, her voice echoing obnoxiously off the walls. “Who started it? Him, right? He believes that ‘self preservation’ bullshit to his core.”

“He asked me to because he wanted to cool his head. He said he couldn’t think straight.”

Meoro flung her face into the bed and screamed with laughter. Nozel pulled his knees to his chest and tried to maintain that this was all at Fuego’s expense. He had not yet been incriminated.

“He said,” she gasped, fighting back cackles, “that he thinks _you_ like kissing _him!”_ She threw herself onto the bed and let loose again. 

There it was. Nozel suffered through the humiliation at the oldest Vermillion’s hands, because what choice did he have? At this point, he simply hoped she had something useful to say eventually.

“And then he said that kissing you ‘is not… unpleasant’.” Her Fuegoleon impersonation was atrocious, but she hadn’t actually stopped laughing to do it. She flopped back onto the bed, face red with laughter.

Nozel buried his face in his hand, his face burning. He couldn’t decide if an admittance made this better or worse. “What am I going to do…”

“You ought to shit or get off the pot!” she roared. “He can’t say ‘no homo’ if you fuck him!”

Nozel choked on the air. He sank onto his bed, staring at his knees as he tried to remember how to breathe. Meoroleona looked like she might have an aneurysm if she didn’t come up for air.

“That’s enough!” Nozel finally stuttered. “This is not helping anyone! Get out of my room!”

“It’s helping me!” Meoro cackled. She picked herself off the bed and climbed farther onto it, leaning onto her hands and knees like she was going to pounce on him. "You're sick in the head, Nozel! You've been letting him get away with this for too long!”

“With-? What am I supposed to do?” he asked, hiding behind his knees. “He’s far too stubborn to listen to anything _I_ have to say!”

“You haven’t said anything!”

“Because he won’t listen! Besides, if he can do the things we did in that fountain, and _still_ believe that ‘no homo’ absolves him of responsibility, how am I going to convince him?”

He realized his mistake the moment it left his lips. Meoro leapt, planting her hands on the head board and leaning over him like a lion with a mouse between her paws. “What did you do in the fountain?”

“Get off of me!” he cried, mercury forming around Meoroleona as a brace.

She leaned into it, her mana flaring. His metal smoldered and boiled. “Answer me, Nozel!”

“Nothing more happened than what you know!” he stammered. “I didn’t let it!”

She paused her pursuit and cocked her head to the side. “Yeah?”

“Yes! I- I brought everything to a stop when it went too far.”

Her mouth spread wide in a feral grin. “What’s too far?”

“Meoro, _please…_ ”

She barked with laughter, ceasing her destruction of his mercury to lean into it. He would have dissolved it out from under her if it wouldn’t mean that she’d land on top of him. “You know what? Don’t tell me. It’s funnier if I don’t know.” She climbed to her feet and walked the length of the bed before dropping to a sit in the middle. Had Nozel not been curled up like a dead spider, he wouldn’t have room to straighten his legs. “I told him to back off. Avoid kissing more than he is now.”

Nozel let himself unfurl, but didn’t put his guard down. “Thank you.”

She nodded, her wild grin still splitting her face. “Sure, sure. That means if you ever want anything to get through his thick skull, _you’re_ going to have to do something.”

His expression grew grave. The color hadn’t left his cheeks. “Right.”

She wagged her finger and sneered. “ _If_ he listens.”

“Of course.”

She sucked in a breath and exhaled the last of her chuckles. Had Nozel not known her better, he would guess that she’d tired herself out. “Well, guess I’ll leave you to your thoughts!” She slid off the bed and strolled to the door. “See you later.”

“Wait,” he said, pushing himself to a proper sit.

She stopped at the door and put her hand on her hips.

“Tell my siblings that they can come back.”

Meoroleona smirked and took the doorknob. “You think I didn’t think of that before I came here?” She pulled the door open. “Get his ass.”

Solid zoomed into the room and clawed his way back onto the bed, nestling himself into Nozel’s pillows beside him. Nebra strolled in after him, her demeanor more controlled but her expression no less eager. Noelle and Leopold scurried in after her, although it was hard to tell whether they were following or chasing each other.

Meoro caught them by their shirts and hoisted them off their feet. “Not you two. You’re coming with me.”

The toddlers squealed and struggled in mirthful protest as Meoroleona toted them out of the room. “Have fun, metal head!”

“And you as well,” Nozel replied, the words dry and facetious.

The door closed behind him, and the room went quiet.

Nebra settled down in her chair beside his bed. “What was that about?”

Nozel rubbed his face until the blush started to fade. “Nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Hope you weren't too disappointed. But I really do think this couple is way more fun remaining in this nebulous state of dumbassery. Not that I don't want to eventually give them their happy ending, but I'm taking my time getting there.
> 
> I have every intention of writing more about these two, and actually have several ideas, but this was the first piece of writing to come together that wasn't so heavily seated in headcanons that you needed an encyclopedia to read it. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
